


This Life That I Have

by BlackRose



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Cancer, Character Death, Epistolary, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25816030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackRose/pseuds/BlackRose
Summary: His exile ends both too soon and not soon enough.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 93





	This Life That I Have

_This life that I have,_   
_Is all that I have,_   
_And this life that I have_   
_Is yours...._

The Greek physician Hippocrates is credited with first describing a disease he called karkinos, 'crab'. Maybe you knew him, Andy. Perhaps even biblically. You could have asked him why he chose that name; whether because the hardened mass of tumors reminded him of a crab shell, or because of the fiery, biting pain that comes with it, or even because it ravages the body in much the same way scavenging marine life will eat away at a corpse. But in any event I can't ask you, can I? Even were I no longer forbidden to contact you, it's been decades; you're probably gone by now. I have a glass for you every night; it feels a fitting tribute to the only woman who could ever drink me under the table. 

Joe. I'm going to be honest, old friend, I hesitated here. What could I even say to you, after so long? All the apologies my pickled heart could pour out, won't bring Boss back. Only know, that I do regret what I did. I have nothing else but regret, nowadays. How are you, _mon brave?_ Are you keeping Nicky and baby Nile in line? Lightening their hearts with your pretty words? Perhaps you noticed; I tried to weave some of that pretty poetry, same as you. No, I didn't write that little snippet up there. I'm not gifted like you are. 

Nicky, beating heart of the Guard. Tell me, former priest that you are, is there any absolution yet to be had? Some prayer I can say, or penance I can offer, that your God will accept this filthy and tattered soul of mine? Perhaps there is not, and that's understandable. Betrayers burn, I think Dante said. Dear sweet Nicky. I honestly didn't expect to miss you this badly. You I could bitch to about how badly it hurts. The horror of waking up heaving blood into the sink. That at long last I understand the desperate fear in my son's voice as he begged me to share my immortality with him. The sheer exhaustion. That's the worst part, I think. It's so goddamned _slow._  
It tears you up piecemeal, like the aforementioned hungry crabs. Some days I'm simply mad to get on with it. Other days, I'm terrified beyond all reason at the thought of simple...nothingness. Oblivion. Ceasing to be. Maybe it's taken me already, and this is he perhaps? The very uncertainty being an added layer of torment. Well done, demons! Good show!

Little Nile, the baby of the group. How do you like immortality? It can be fun if you use it correctly. And like you yourself once pointed out, you can do so much good. I'm proud of you, for what little it's worth. I only knew you a short time but there's so much good in you. Such a real love for humanity. Please, sweet one, never lose that. Don't do as I did, and let grief extinguish your hope. Keep the old guys on their toes for me, promise? I can't prank them anymore, so that torch is officially passed to you. I know you'll do me proud. 

Anyhow. All of this is to say, I'm sorry I can't meet where we agreed on. I can't walk far anymore. My time is coming so much sooner than I expected. Ironically, the cause will be the exact type of cancer that stole my last child from me. Genetics, who knew? Of course, marinating one's liver in wine (and whiskey, and brandy, and gin, and occasionally vodka in truly dire situations) doesn't help either. I can't help wondering also, if this...gift or curse, or whatever we have, doesn't have a hand in it too. Cancer is primarily a disease of regeneration; cells endlessly multiply and clump up until the clumps--tumors--begin to choke the body of blood, of nutrients, of oxygen. Who's to say that endless deaths and revivals didn't give those rogue cells the boost they needed to go on the attack? 

I love all of you. I know you will continue to be good to each other, and for each other. How could it be otherwise? Take care of the new ones. I need to sleep now. Goodbye, my darlings.

_The peace of my years_   
_In the long green grass_   
_Will be yours and yours and yours_

\---Booker

_No sooner had they read the letter---tucked into an expensive envelope, scratched out in a weakening, wobbly copperplate--but they were on a plane to Paris. The rundown little tenement was up a set of crumbling back alley stairs. Nicky kicked the door in and led the way back to the dim bedroom---Joe stopped Nile at the door. One look at his face, and she knew._


End file.
